Tranquil
__NOEDITSECTION__ Nebula's OC, please don't edit! I am a dragon. I think, I believe, I work to understand. I am a creature of many thoughts. My name is Quill. appearance My scales are normal, reddish orange, like the sunset. My underbelly, a simple shade of warm yellow, soft and welcoming, you could say. I like my horns. Round and curved, but ending in a needle sharp point. They’re white, ivory snowy white. My wing membranes are orange, simple and pure. Then dragons pause when they see my eyes. My strange, strange, eyes. One’s purple, like a precisely cut jewel. That’s the left eye. The other’s green, soft, leafy green. Like the greenest leaf on the planet. Weird. That’s what all think. That’s what abandoned my in an alleyway. But we’re not onto that yet. I am small, I can’t change that. Six years old, and the same height as some two years younger. Bony, perhaps a bit malnourished, too, but still thin, flexible, and fast. I don’t care though. I have rippling muscles, and they are ready to fight, if need be. I am strong. The others know. They don’t touch me. They don’t dare. personality My name is Tranquil, but I am called Quill. I prefer the second, as the first is inferior and wrong. I am the strangest thing on this planet, and I know. I act perfect, happy and kind, considerate of others. I try, and I try hard. I act casual, nice, I work hard. I try to please others. It does work, it works perfectly, but it is nothing more than a protective surface. In truth, I have a wall. A towering, infinite wall, never letting one in, never getting to know them. I separate myself, push away, refuse to know and love. It is an ability, with me forever. And I despise it. I am afraid, as one young, of being alone. My parents have taught me to fear the ones I love to push me away. It’s a hole, a paradox, that I am circling forever. I believe I understand something. The right eye, the green one, is my facade, warm and kind. The purple one, the truth. My hard, cold wall, allowing none. Let us speak of the getaway. I do not not confide in others. I stare, watch, study. I am fascinated by eyes. The color, blinking, twitching muscles. The tears, the widening and contracting of the pupil. Stare into another’s eyes, and if you understand the signs, you know how they feel about you. For me it’s a single word: Strange. I am strange, everyone knows it. I see things in others, I know when one is sad or angry, yet I do nothing. I say I am fine, that nothing is wrong. That is a lie. Everything is wrong, the world is a tunnel, twisting and confusing. I am afraid of loneliness, and afraid or betrayal. The two cannot live in harmony. Help, please. Help me get past the wall that I built. Please… backstory Life was fine until two. I loved my parents, and they loved me back, well at least I thought so. That belief would stay until the day they left me. We were in the marketplace, exploring the shops, when they flew away. I followed, thinking that they forgot about me. Mother looked at me with fear, Father was anger. I cried to them, asking them what happened. Mother blew a plume of fire at me and disappeared into the sky. The burns are gone, but the pain stays. I was abandoned, lost. Those in Possibility tried to help, but I was shaken to the core. At school, the dragons laughed, and taunted me. I survived, with simple ignorance. The scavenger was in the alleyway, alone and small. I took him in, taking care of him and naming him Pupil, after the eyes I already loved back then. Those days were the happiest since my parents left. Then the SeaWing ate Iris. I will never forgive her, and nearly broke her tail. I hated them all, raged, screamed, and disappeared into the mountains. I have never gone back. I live in the mountains, around animals I can't open my heart to. I am not happy, but has found a sort of stability in life. It is better, but still broken. I am trying to find myself, just attempting to discover what lays ahead. relationships parents I used to love them. Now I hate, despise them. My parents have scarred my memories, and the pain will stay forever. Pupil He was a funny little thing, always active, playful. He knew I meant no harm. I miss him now, I wish he was still here. gallery I do not draw. Others do not draw me, yet, somehow, art finds it way. SkyWingBase.png|The normal SkyWing structure, by Joy Ang Quillref.png|A reference of myself, colored by Heron R1.jpeg|This lovely image, by Pearl Category:Characters Category:Work In Progress Category:Content (Nebula of the NightWings) Category:SkyWings Category:Dragonets Category:Occupation (Student) Category:LGBT+